Another Name For A Prostitute
by hypheniated
Summary: Loosely based on The Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Ce soir? For one night, and one night only, unless you call for me again, I am the perfect girlfriend. ItaSaku.
1. Introduction to Female Descruction

_**C'est le vingt-et-un **_**_février_**_**, deux-mille-huit**_

Things you should know about me:

-Has pink hair

-Has green eyes

-Birthday is March 28th

-am five-foot-five

-currently lives in London _(triple heart)_

Things you are about to learn about me:

-Can't drive _(No point anyways, this is London)_

-Has only one female friend, Y _(That's her last name, her first name starts with I)_

-Loves her boys N, S1, and G (_I don't know, does S2 really count?)_

-S1 is the boyfriend of Y _(Wait, that's not about me)_

-I'm a prostitute.

Though I find that slightly offensive. A prostitute is cheap and vulgar.

I'm extremely expensive and classy.

A call girl, lady of the night, courtesan, or mistress sound much better, don't you think?

**-****紅**-

_Er, something to distract me. It's short, I know. Too short. It doesn't even take up an entire page._

_Bad, bad me. I already have three stories to work on. _

_Review? Don't kill me, please._

…_It's not even a thousand words…_


	2. Lunch at Three AM

_**vendredi, le 23 février**_

"...."

"Blossom?"

"...."

"Blossom?"

"...."

"Blossom?"

"......"

"....."

"I'm sorry. Yes?"

"You've been stroking me for over ten minutes. Can you put me in your mouth now?"

Things not to ignore: 

-Chocolate _(Mmm...)_

-A taxi _(especially if G is in it....He's so warm)_

-A set of lingerie from N _(That sweet boy...he always knows what I like)_

-A hardcore porno specially gotten from N _(He's heir to a porn empire, what did you expect? Flowers?)_

-N_ (or G, for that matter)_

-A client, especially when you're on the job.

_**lundi, le 26 février**_

To distinguish from all the rest:

-I don't look like a whore. _(My makeup is light)_

-I don't act like one. _(Until I get to the bed, of course.)_

-I don't dress like one. _(I dress warm, thanks.)_

To distinguish me, look for:

-The barest amount of cleavage

-Designer clothing

-Pink hair

-High heels

-Huge handbag

_**mardi, le 27 **__**février**_

Many of my old female friends _(This was before I got into selling sex, and no, I never told them)_ would tell me how stressful and tiresome their jobs were.

I could see that. All they did was sit behind a desk for eleven hours typing and ransacking their brains to finish some report that's due in five minutes to hand to their boss, going through gallons of coffee and rush-inducing foods that only get them fat in one sitting.

Ew.

I find it hard to even keep the pounds on.

They laughed at me for seeming to do nothing; as a matter of fact, I wasn't. I think that was one of the reasons I lost them all as friends…?

If their jobs were stress-inducing, surely mine were stress-relieving. My job is probably more tiring then theirs.

…Still. They were the ones crushing on the gorgeous hot teacher in seventh grade who taught science, while I was the one fucking him behind closed doors. They didn't bother to try and make a move, just hand him things and giggle mindlessly as you watched the slightly odd stiff way he walked down the hall, me a couple dozen paces back, practically staggering and spent.

Ah, those were the days.

_**jeudi, le premiere mars**_

The traffic in London is unpredictable. I had twenty minutes to spare, so I ducked into a tiny little café two minutes away from the hotel.

As I sipped my coffee, I watched a couple by the window, girl snuggled up to boy, boy possessively hugging her with one arm.

Sickeningly cute. Both the girl and boy look daft and happy.

I'm not a bitter person at all, just that displays like that makes me want to vomit up a cat.

_Later…_

By the time I'm up in hotel room number 989, walking in is like a breath of fresh air.

"Hello, darling, I'm sorry to make you wait."

The man is a handsome one, I admit. Looks somewhat like G's older brother, except this male has blue eyes.

"That's alright. Tea? Water? Martini?"

"Just water, thank you."

We strip, and fuck. He told me he liked the submissive female, so I did that. Mewling and crying out and whimpering and all. We finish, and clean up. We watched the Discovery Channel for the rest of the hour.

"I wonder if it got cold, wearing only jewelry that barely covered your parts."

"It probably was. All the men must have had constant hard-ons. But then only wearing jewelry to cover up would make it easier to access, wouldn't it?"

"Then you could just come up and insert and have no need to take off clothes."

_Even later…_

Met G outside. Me and him walked down the street in silence, my head on his shoulder, his head on top of mine, arm around me.

G is so sweet. He is the best friend I could ever have. London makes you feel so small and insignificant, but having a best friend who knows you inside out makes you feel secure.

_**vendredi, le 2 mars**_

No appointments, so I spent the entire day with N and G and S2.

…I had forgotten how queer S2 is.

_**dimanche, le 4 **__**mars**_

My manager is an absolute doll, incredibly sweet. She's probably a few years older than me. She's so shy-seeming it's impossible to tell she helps sell sex, let alone have sex at all. She looks too damn innocent.

She's absolutely gorgeous. Her skin is pale as snow. Her eyes are a cross between liquid silver and bright lavender. Huge assets. Her hair is like ink.

She doesn't keep track of time. That's her only fault.

I adore her, though.

"Hello?"

"Darling, there's a regular wanting you this afternoon. Three o'clock."

"But its two now! I need longer notice!"

"It is? I'm sorry, but he's already on his way over."

"Oh, alright."

I love her to pieces, but she is terrible at time _in general_.

One time she called me to lunch with her at three AM.

_**lundi, le 5 mars**_

Note: Remember to never, never, never perform oral after using a condom. Ever.

My lips are swollen to the size of sausages.

**-紅**-

_Review? I want to know what you think of it._


	3. Lists of Useless Sounding Lists

_**samedi, le 9 mars**_

Sometimes I make _(and not in the phone sense, mind you)_:

- House calls

- Hotel calls

- Apartment calls

But sometimes, I let the customer come to me.

Which, you wonder, how do I do that?

- I have a rather large apartment, first of all. I don't own a house.

- Next, my apartment is divided into two.

- Private _(which is all mine, mine, mine! and rather messy.)_

- And Professional _(which is all clean. And pretty. And soft. And comfy. You get the general idea.)_

My professional area has to be always clean and unscented except for the smell of freshly laundered clothes. Don't want the customer leaving smelling of flowers or some female scent.

This means I don't wear perfume. Unscented soap, shampoo, deodorant, everything. Can't have the customer smelling of woman, unless it is a woman, of course.

I have my own time for it, thank you. I currently smell of cherries and vanilla. Yummy.

The Professional side consists of:

- A bedroom (_Duh)_

- A washroom _(for the customer to clean up in)_

- A large window next to the bed

- Doors

- A king-sized bed with royal purple sheets and turquoise and lavender pillows _(random sizes)_

- A walk-in closet with all my work toys and hidden fetishes and stuff like that

- Walls

Now, my Personal Private side.

It consists of:

- Numerous closets _(For sheets, towels, and an enormous walk-in closet for my clothes)_

_-_ My bedroom

- Kitchen

- Office/living room thing _(My laptop is in there, along with my couch, TV, desk and bookcase) _

- My fridge

- Chocolate

- A spare bedroom for a crashing N, Y, G, super-rare S2 and S1 when Y kicks him out

- Drawer full of my own toys

Yup. That's it.

…Wait, I forgot about my closet.

My closet:

-Is the most important thing in my apartment _(dress to impress, darlings)_

- Is also divided into two

Why?

I go by two names. Cerise, and Sakura. Separate people in a way, but played by the same person.

The difference?

Sakura doesn't have sex for money. Cerise does.

Because, who in the hell tells people that you just met what you actually do for a living?

"Hello, lovely to meet you too, Mr. Perfect. What do I do for a living? Oh, I'm a prostitute."

Seriously! I don't go around telling people I sell my body for money!

I tell them my job is some boring desk job where I sort papers and crap everyday and place them into the cubbyholes of CEOs of some big company. It's so boring, no one asks me about it.

Cerise is French for cherry. I don't tell my clients my real name. They don't expect you to. Some girls do tell, I don't.

By the way, my lips healed somewhat. They're of normal size, but very, very tender. No work for me to do… I told my manager to put me off the list till further notice.

My doctor said that I was allergic to sperm-killing stuff in the condoms.

_**lundi, le 10 mars**_

Went to visit S2 today. I know he's weird and all, with the probable gay thing pasted on him, but he is one of my very best friends.

And no, he is certainly not gay.

He was painting today, as always.

I barge in through his locked door, carrying a bag of food.

S2 is sometimes so focused on his damn work, he forgets to eat. One time, me, G, N, Y and S1 found him so emaciated that we tossed the idiot into the hospital. He tried to escape twelve times before the hospital released him.

Bad boy.

So he was sitting on that old stool, easel posed in front of him, and he was painting a nude girl from imagination.

He's one of those artists becomes world famous while he's alive, not dead. It's not hard to imagine, so many people are buying his work. I went to one of his shows as his muse.

Yes, I was his muse at one point. We were lovers during that time too. We were in university.

He stared at me when I came in the door, with that same longing back in uni.

It wasn't lust for me; it was lust to paint me.

He likes painting me, you see. He's so fascinated by me, and all my curves, contours, shapes, and shadows I create, he claims. All of his paintings of females are all variants of me.

"Hello." He rasped. He turns back to his work.

I tell him at length what he missed when being ensconced in his abstract, artsy world. About Y and S1. N and his new little hardcore porn series. _(Which __I got to watch before it came out.__)_. G and his new little surprise with four wheels and is Italian-racing red. And that his voice was way too hoarse from lack of talking.

He doesn't answer. He was too busy changing the size of the naked bosom on the figure on the canvas.

_**mercredi, le 12 mars**_

I am finally back to work!

Apparently, according to my silver-eyed gorgeous manager, there were over a hundred calls for me.

Over a hundred.

Wow.

I'm in huge demand.

I honestly never knew that.

_**jeudi, le 13 mars**_

My huge handbag has inside _(And I'm not kidding about the size)_:

- Pocketbook _(For holding money, cards)_

- Notepad _(For writing things down, you expect me to remember everything?)_

- Pens _(For writing, of course!)_

- Keys _(To open my apartment door, and assorted other keys for opening various things, such as the door to N's porn collection and S2's door)_

- Tampons _(Because girls do.)_

- Spare knickers _(Same reason as above, as well as the reason below))_

- Spare bra _(Customers may rip the one I'm wearing)_

- Sponge _(Uh, do you really want to know?)_

- Makeup _(For touchups)_

- Condoms _(I carry latex and polyurethane. You don't expect for the client to have condoms with them, do you?)_

- Folding scissors _(Loose threads look bad, and it's for cutting the sponge)_

- Comb _(Look your best, ladies!)_

- Breath mints_ (Bad breath is a no-no)_

- Gum _(Same as above, but a lot more fun)_

- Phone _(Needed to use for calling important people, such as the manager, G, or N)_

If I even tried to pack that all in some Coach glasses-case, it would explode. I trust that Houdini can't even do that.

_**vendredi, le 14 mars**_

I went out to go buy groceries, and instead of taking a taxi or calling a friend, I actually walked the five blocks to the grocery store.

It was cold, so I wore a leather jacket with lovely cashmere lining.

You might think this is crazy, but I noticed a lot of new things. And I have been down this road so many times.

The sidewalk I walked on, it was actually cobblestone!

And there are so many delicious-looking cafes around; I may have to treat Y and S1 to one sometime.

_**samedi, le 15 mars**_

Oh my god.

Manager just called me, asking me about an appointment.

It's from a young man.

And he personally went out to find the manager.

He was asking for a girl, with confidence, beauty, power, dominant and docile, and stood out in a bunch of people.

And she picked me.

And that's not all.

He wants me to stay with him and accompany him to functions, etcetera, for a week.

And I accepted.

There's no way am I going to let something like this slip out of my manicured hands and into another girl's half-bitten claws.

He is paying for a week.

And a week of pay for me?

That's an enormous sum.

I wonder what he looks like?

**-****紅**-

_And you wonder who this mystery man is?_


	4. Meeting HIM and D

_**lundi, le 16 mars**_

I'm so stressed right now…

I'm busy, busy, busy picking out all my stuff to take with me to the hotel.

Details, details:

- Apparently, he arranged for me to have a hotel room in some fancy place.

- I have to dress presentably, because I'm an escort.

Ugh, this is so difficult. I'm going to end up with ten pieces of luggage.

- Three for lingerie

- Five for clothes

- One for feminine uses

- One for shoes, makeup, etcetera

And I'm so scared now, what if he doesn't like my pink hair? What if I'm too unique?

_**mardi, le 17 mars**_

S1 came over, apparently Y kicked him out.

He's such a lazy ass. I begged for him to help me. He said:

S1: "Troublesome, Sakura. I'm not a woman, I can't help you."

Me: "…. Please?"

S1: "No."

He sat in my chair, watching me fret over everything.

He started to tell me why Y kicked him out, poor thing, because he didn't help her wash the dishes.

S1: "Mind if I crash here for a while?"

Me: "Go ahead. If you need to crash while I'm away, feel free to float through the door."

S1: "Thanks. By the way, that pink lingerie set looks terrible with your hair, you know."

Follows through with an immediate chuck to the waste bin.

_**mercredi, le 18 mars**_

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

I've packed everything I need. Tomorrow the man is picking me up.

Ugh, I feel like shit.

Pantsuit or dress or something warm and cute?

_**jeudi, le 19 mars**_

Terrible start. I almost forgot my laptop and my purse.

My doorman buzzed.

Doorman: "Miss, there's a car asking for you."

Me: "Alright. Doorman, I'm going to need help carrying all my stuff, I have ten pieces of luggage. Please?"

Doorman: "Alright, Miss."

Doorman comes up, along with another man.

I presume it's the chauffeur.

He's rather attractive. Long dark hair, tied back, really pale white skin. His cheeks seem a little sunken and beautiful large hands. It suits him, though.

Quite tall, too. At least a head taller than I am.

I'm tiny, though.

He's wearing an adorable dark turquoise turtleneck, black slacks, and a long black coat. Sunglasses, too.

Darn, I wanted to see his eyes.

They help me carry everything down, and stuff it into the shiny silver car sitting idle out front.

The windows were tinted, so I couldn't see anything.

I was wearing something decidedly warm.

A long beige coat trimmed in fake fur, since I can't bear wearing furry animal skins.

It's gross, and cruel.

And boots and jeans. I chose it because it was warm, and rather practical. Cute baby blue mittens too, and a matching toque. And a white scarf.

The chauffeur opens the door for me, and I thank him quite nicely.

He closes the door, and I settle into my seat.

My God, it's warm in here. I take off my scarf, mittens and toque. It's really chilly outside.

…Wait a second; the chauffeur is already sitting in the car.

He doesn't look like the man I saw help me put all my stuff in the car! He has blonde hair! In a ponytail, no less. Blue eyes.

He's grinning at me.

Actual Chauffeur: "Hello, un!"

He has a weird accent. Like an American.

And there's no one else in the car, either.

…….Oh.

The door opens, and in steps the man who helped me with my luggage.

Oh my god, he's the man who wanted a call girl??!??!!?

Asdfjkl.

HE turns towards me and hoarsely says a greeting. HE removes his sunglasses.

Oh…Kami _(why am I swearing on a Japanese god?)_, HIS eyes are _gorgeous._

The kind that you kind of get lost and nearly drown and sizzle to death in_. Ohhhhh._

HIM: "Hello."

Me: "……….Oh, what? Sorry, hello."

_(You see, I was getting lost in HIS gorgeous eyes.)_

HE chuckles, very amused,_ (in my opinion)_ and sits back into the leather seat.

_**Ten seconds later…**_

HE isn't the type to talk, I think.

Or HE doesn't want to talk in front of the blond guy.

The entire ride is so silent, and so awkward.

HE keeps staring at me!

Like examining me.

Very critically.

It's not scaring me at all; it's just a bit unnerving.

….And I think the blond guy just turned up the heat.

It's already warm enough in here!

Wait a second; I saw HIM gesture at the blond to turn up the heat!

Does HE want me to strip?

You know, HE could just ask.

Instead of fantasizing what I look like from under my coat.

Me: "Can you please stop turning up the heat, Mr. Blond Man with the strange accent?"

Blond: "Nope, sorry. HE-" and gestures to the ink-haired man beside me "Wants it turned up, un."

I glare.

He smirks at me.

Blond: "And my name is D, un."

Me: "Well, then, D, why does HE want the heat turned up?"

And D _(I'm not going to give his real name, obviously) _looks rather surprised.

I wonder why….

D: "Because HE wants you to take off your coat, un. So HE can stop trying to figure out what you look like underneath."

And he leers at me.

And I whack him in the head with my mitten.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice HIS eyes widen slightly and glare at D.

And I pulled down my coat.

D whistles.

I'm wearing a powder blue cashmere sweater underneath.

And then HE stares at my body intensely for five minutes, as that's how many minutes left we had until we made it to the hotel.

I let HIM stare; it's not like I care. I'm proud of this body, as I waited fifteen years to get it.

We all get out, and HE purposefully walks gracefully away, probably to check something.

D climbs out gangly and he asks me a question:

D: "Are you seriously a prostitute?"

I slap him. I say yes, tell him that's offensive to me, and he looks shocked.

D: "You're rather educated and nice for a…call girl, un. Most call girls are bitchy and clingy."

I nod dismissively. I went to uni! Of course I'm educated!

And I attempt to heave one of my bags out, when D grabs it and lifts it out, along with my other ones.

Gentlemanly.

A bellhop comes out, loads all my stuff into one of those pushy cart things, and goes away.

Well, D leads me into the hotel.

Hmm, definitely off the scale of five stars.

I believe it might be at least twenty stars.

D grins at me, and walks away towards the elevator, and disappears.

He leaves me in front of HIM.

And HE silently leads me to the elevator.

And up, up, up we go.

_**A few minutes later…**_

I'm in the most beautiful, largest suite I've ever been in.

I immediately flop onto the pristine white king-sized bed, much to the quiet surprise of HIM.

HE stands stiffly at the door, watching me as I frolic and peel off my coat and boots.

I stop, and look at HIM.

Me: "Care to join me?"

And HE does.

HE lies on the bed silently. Next to me, I'm sitting up.

HE DOESN'T TALK.

This is starting to get annoying.

Wait…

HIM: "What's your name, Blossom?"

Me: "Sakura. And you are?"

HIM: "…"

HE looks up at me darkly.

WAIT A SECOND.

Rewind.

I told HIM my real name.

I TOLD HIM MY REAL NAME!

Why did I do that?

I look down.

I'm tiny, so HIS head is rather close to mine. Inches away.

….I thought:

- HIS eyes were pure black

But I notice:

-There are tiny flecks of cobalt and sapphire that are blended in with the black.

HE's absolutely _ravishing_, with HIS exquisite eyes and the way HE looks lying on the bed, HIS hair all fanned out, it makes me want to_ ravage _him.

HIM: "My name is –BEEP-"

Again, I can't be writing HIS actual name, can't be bothered to, and I have privacy issues. People have privacy issues.

And I like to nickname people.

HIM: "Tonight, nothing is going to happen, Blossom."

Ohh, the way my _petit nom_ just pearls from HIS mouth….

HIM: "Because today, I'm going to learn you, delve myself into you, completely study you for the entire week, Sakura. You fascinate me."

A rather curiously predatory gleam appeared in HIS eye.

I suddenly feel hunted.

…. HE wants to learn me? Whatever for?

**-****紅**-

_Congratulations again, to JadeOnyxComet, for guessing everyone so far and all her guesses were correct! But darling, this is an ItaSaku._

_And everyone else, you better catch on fast._


End file.
